Return of Memoryfest - Day 25/31
Jan. 24th, 2007 11:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bironicHorror of horrors, I have not written any classroom-related memories except that one about the spelling word mispronunciation when we were eight years old. And school has been possibly the largest shaping force in my life other than my parents. For shame!
25. High School
Most of my favorite middle school and high school teachers were English teachers—not much of a surprise there. Along with P. (see here and here) and the woman I had for creative writing, one of my most dear teachers was Mr. F., close to retirement, a fellow language geek and science fiction and fantasy fan, supporter of my blossoming fanfiction-writing habits and donator of books to my needy shelves. Really sweet, kind, knowledgeable man with a sometimes filthy sense of humor. I had him for Honors English one year and stuck with him for a linguistics elective. We still keep in occasional touch.
Most of which is irrelevant to what I'm about to share. :)
One day in his English class we stumbled upon the subject of the Devil in literature, and he asked if anyone knew the Devil's name in Goethe's Faust, which wasn't in our curriculum. Being me, I'd read the first part of the play two years earlier for fun (because Lestat kept referencing it in Anne Rice's mostly abysmal Memnoch the Devil and I'd been curious) and had picked up the basic plot and a whole host of new words and phrases like "will o' the wisp" and "Walpurgis Nacht." After waiting a few moments for someone else to raise his/her hand and steeling myself to answer, I put my hand up and said "Mephistopheles" and felt that horrible-great combination of shame and pride for knowing the answer when no one else did.
Hey. Anyone have any requests or prompts for the remaining few memories?
25. High School
Most of my favorite middle school and high school teachers were English teachers—not much of a surprise there. Along with P. (see here and here) and the woman I had for creative writing, one of my most dear teachers was Mr. F., close to retirement, a fellow language geek and science fiction and fantasy fan, supporter of my blossoming fanfiction-writing habits and donator of books to my needy shelves. Really sweet, kind, knowledgeable man with a sometimes filthy sense of humor. I had him for Honors English one year and stuck with him for a linguistics elective. We still keep in occasional touch.
Most of which is irrelevant to what I'm about to share. :)
One day in his English class we stumbled upon the subject of the Devil in literature, and he asked if anyone knew the Devil's name in Goethe's Faust, which wasn't in our curriculum. Being me, I'd read the first part of the play two years earlier for fun (because Lestat kept referencing it in Anne Rice's mostly abysmal Memnoch the Devil and I'd been curious) and had picked up the basic plot and a whole host of new words and phrases like "will o' the wisp" and "Walpurgis Nacht." After waiting a few moments for someone else to raise his/her hand and steeling myself to answer, I put my hand up and said "Mephistopheles" and felt that horrible-great combination of shame and pride for knowing the answer when no one else did.
Hey. Anyone have any requests or prompts for the remaining few memories?
no subject
Date: Jan. 25th, 2007 10:05 pm (UTC)I know the feeling you're talking about. The way I dealt with it in high school was pretty obnoxious: I just
stage-whispered the answers to my nearby friends. That way, I didn't have to always be the one with my hand up, but the teacher (if he or she was paying attention) knew exactly where the answer came from. *Is embarrassed*At least I also told my friends the answers during tests—and then I was very careful not to be obvious!